


Life Cycle

by LePetitMonstre



Series: Kink/Gore October 2018 [7]
Category: Alien Series
Genre: Gen, Goretober, Kinktober, Oviposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-29 23:39:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16274738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LePetitMonstre/pseuds/LePetitMonstre
Summary: Gore: free choice / break day | Kink: BondageA new queen begins her reign.





	Life Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> This writing is intended only for mature audiences. Please mind the tags.
> 
> Reader Discretion Is Advised

When she had torn into her mother's throat she was barren, and all her sisters exalted her for the deed. 

They had celebrated her triumph by tearing down the old mother's throne and building one of her own. Great straps of resin hanging her above them from the ceiling of the cave they had called home for generations. 

She had always had eggs inside. This was why she was revered. 

This is why she was so lovingly bound. 

Darkness surrounded her. Cool dampness coated her exoskeleton. 

She began to grow into her full majesty. The crest of her skull was always more beautiful than that of her sisters, and now it grew heavier. Her sisters wrapped resin under her neck to keep her head from bowing. 

Inside her, the eggs grow. Change begins as a rending of the soft tissue between her hind legs. Her cloaca becoming raw and protruding. Sisters wrap resin around her hips and knees, sinuous cables pulling her thighs as wide apart as they are able without harm. 

Inside her, the eggs stretch her uterus until few other organs have room. Only one path of least resistance is offered to them. Every muscle in her body contracts and her cloaca burns as it stretches. Her face draws up under her crest; a weak attempt to contort into the shape of her anguish. Air hissing as hot steam from her clenched maw. 

Sisters' claws touch, heads bump, and tails brush all around her. Bodies gathering to comfort her. 

Her exoskeleton vibrates in agony with every cell too many growing within her. Acid blood spatters the floor as the new ovipositor falls free. The feeling of her organs crushed inside her own body is released. An intense burning pulses one as her muscles relax, and the worst of the pain ebbs away. 

Sisters rush to attend her. More resin straps are hung from the ceiling and used to support the ovipositor. Relieving her sore pelvis from the weight of the unborn daughter that broke the stalemate within. 

Time progresses. 

Contractions begin before she is at her full size, costing her numerous undeveloped eggs. Too small to hatch and thrive. Sisters carry them away to make room for the thousands of healthy eggs to come. 

If it is thousands of years or a thousand days before her eggs are born healthy, she couldn't know. There is no counting contractions or wasted daughters. Only the worsening pain as her ovipositor grows to a length more conducive to the viability of her eggs. 

This is her eternity now. That burning ache, her muscles clench, and the strong grip of her binding shifting as it holds her aloft. 

Sisters were always there. Ever scampering around her and attending to the hive and her. A tilt of her head or a stretch of prehensile arms directing them to reinforce, ensuring her bindings were strong, or plucking old straps before they choked off an important flow. To ensure the resin wrapped around her tight but was never so firm she could not draw in the atmosphere to cool herself or push along fresh eggs. 

Once the growing pains had subsided into something more gradual, she learned to enjoy the process. Sisters perfecting the art of her bondage to best suit her. The exoskeleton between her hind legs had cracked and softened to give way for newly eggs entering her ovipositor. Every inch of her built for this ancient purpose. 

Eggs stretch through her most sensitive flesh. Moving along under the pulse of contractions. Filling her and rubbing along tender muscle, running waves of pleasant heat through her nervous system. 

She surrenders to her biological purpose and her sentience falls into a blissful stasis. Sisters, daughters, all skitter underneath her blind eyes. Knowing their mother and guardian will tear down the very cave, break her restraints, and forfeit the tediously grown ovipositor should they ever call on her. Or, until she grows barren, and a new queen must tear her down.

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving a comment and/or kudos. It makes an author's life brighter to hear from readers. Let me know if you spot any mistakes. Constructive criticism is always welcome. [The comment screening is just for antis.]


End file.
